Mischievous Hobbits
by Lil' Hedgepig
Summary: "Mosco and Marroc are the most well-known of all troublemakers in all of hobbit, or at least, that's what they think. Although it's true they cause quite a bit of trouble, they mainly plague their home town. Yet, There is one particular hobbit whom the brothers adore that always seems to set them in their place. He is Bandobras Took."
1. A Hobbit Heist

_Author's Note: Welcome to my first fanfiction of the lands of Middle Earth, I've been needing some sort of new outlet to try and get more attention, as most of my stories are of smaller, less read genre. At this point in time, my only plot point I can think of to follow is the that of the Battle of the Greenfields, which is mentioned in the Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, but neither go into depth, so basically, this is my take on that event. Of course, featuring OCs and original plot elements, this may expand into more than just that one plot element. I hope you guys enjoy this fic and as always, rate & review, and I'll meet you over in the next chapter!_

"Mischievous Hobbits"

Chapter 1: "A Hobbit Heist"

"Just keep running!" The younger of the two hobbits called to his older brother behind him. "We can't let them catch us again!" He said, before barely making over one of the taller hedges in yard.

The older hobbit could barely keep up with younger counterpart, he was staggering behind quite a bit, and it was soon to be his turn to attempt clearing the same hedges that his brother had, which would be no easy task, as he did not have the same amount of energy as his little brother, and was considerably more plump as a hobbit than his younger brother, who was taller and considerably more lean. Yet, the shouts of other very frustrated hobbits could be heard trying to catch up with the two brothers.

The adult hobbits that were now fast on their trail were gaining on the two children, who had mischievously stolen something of great value from a particular place in the town in which they lived in. Both of the children knew that the adults would only follow them so far before giving up, that was why evasion and distance was so important in getting away without punishment, at least for a time.

As the older hobbit prepared himself both mentally and physically to make his way across the hedge, the younger hobbit scurried on, carrying with him what the two trouble-makers had stolen and thus, the source of all the commotion in the small town. The older hobbit was inching closer and closer to the intimidating hedge. He pushed with all his strength off the ground and launched into the air, just enough to clear the hedge, but managed to cut himself passing the branches of the hedge. It wasn't a terrible cut, but it caused the older hobbit to fall to the ground.

The younger hobbit did not stop until he heard the sound of his brother's crash, making him stop and run back even more quickly to help his brother.

"What's the matter?" The younger asked.

"What does it look like?" The older hobbit barked. "I cut myself, all the way down the length of my poor leg!"

The younger hobbit scoffed. "Oh, Mosco! You're a baby! You'll be fine, get up!" He said. He looked through the tall obstacle to see if they were still being followed or not. There were a few adult hobbits moving around the other side of the hedge, but it seemed as if they did not know where the two young hobbits had vanished off to.

"Listen." The younger hobbit spoke softly. "We can get away, but we have to go carefully." He told his brother.

The older brother stood up and gave a soft sigh before nodding and gesturing for his little brother to lead the way from the hedge.

The two children quickly, but quietly moved away from the hedge, making sure not to be followed by an adult who might have guess their path, but fortunately for the two young hobbits, there was no such adult around. The two hobbits took refuge underneath one of the taller trees in the surrounding woods, just as they had planned before, and sat down to look over their hard-earned prize.

Mosco brushed himself off before sitting down on the dirt by the tree. "So then, we're both still alive." He said. "And what do we have as a reward, Marroc?" He asked.

Marroc laughed. "Well, only the best gingersnaps in all of Northfarthings!" He exclaimed, reaching into the sack and pulling out a cookie, before shoving it into his mouth. "Oh, yes, the best in Eriador! No one could make gingersnaps as good as these."

Mosco gave a sigh. "I can't believe we even made it." He admitted, reaching in and taking one and nibbling on it.

Marroc only laughed again. "Yeah, we should do this more often." He said, putting another gingersnap into his mouth.

Mosco gave his younger brother a look. "You know that's a bad idea, Marroc. We are not making this a habit." He said. "What if we get caught?"

Marroc shook his head. "Come now, it's all in good fun, and we won't get caught." He replied. "Besides, we're just children getting a snack." He said, smirking. "We're good at it too."

Mosco sighed, taking another gingersnap. He could feel something in the back of his mind telling him that all of this was not a good thing to do, but his little brother seemed fine with the entire ordeal.

Somehow, Marroc always seemed more confident when it came to decisions and other things that Mosco was not. Marroc was always the forward-thinking type while Mosco was the shy type when it came to events such as the one they both were in. It was some time before either of the two brothers bothered to speak again, mainly because it seemed as if there was nothing else to say.

The silence eventually got to Mosco and he found he had to say something, so he asked a question. "What now, Marroc?"

Marroc looked over at him and frowned. "Brother, you really should stop worrying, we've already got the cookies, and we weren't caught." He told Mosco.

"That's not what I meant." Mosco replied. "I mean, what now? Do you already have the next scheme underway, or are we done for now?"

Marroc sighed; he was right in saying that his older brother was worrying too much. He knew that it certainly could not have been that Mosco was expecting the next sort of trick, so he said nothing, and stared off, eating more cookies.

Marroc's silence annoyed Mosco, and he frowned. "Marroc?" He asked.

His younger brother looked over. "What?"

"Answer my question, if you will." Mosco requested, a bit harshly.

"I don't know." Marroc admitted. "What? Do you want to go on another runabout?"

"I'm not sure what I want, to be honest, Marroc." Mosco replied.

"Brother, calm down." Marroc replied, almost as if he was scolding his older brother. "There's nothing to worry about." He said, repeating himself from earlier.

Mosco nodded ran a hand through his dark red hair. "Look, you're right, I guess." He replied in a defeated tone before almost instantaneously looking up and around. Marroc gave a strange look before realizing what was going on to. The hobbits perked up their ears and listened very carefully. It was almost guaranteed that both of the hobbits had ceased breathing to maintain their cover, as neither of them knew what they were hearing until they looked at each other.

Someone was nearby.


	2. A Surprising Relief

**Author's Note: Hello, everyone! Here's chapter two of this fic! I hope you all enjoy. Expect more from me, and also, any feedback that can be given is greatly appreciated. As always, don't stop believing, and don't stop writing!**

Mischievous Hobbits - Chapter 2: "A Surprising Relief"

The rustle of leaves was all around them. The steps were quick and light, but at times seemed to grow heavy on purpose. The two young hobbits frantically darted their eyes around them, knowing that whoever was out there was growing closer to them, but despite that knowledge, it sounded as if the footsteps were slowly vanishing away with distance. This strange case served to confused the two brothers, who looked at each other a third time now. They were clueless.

Once there was no noise at all, the tension began to build upon the pair, especially for Mosco, who, from the beginning of this excursion, had a horrid fear of everything going wrong, ending with them getting caught. For him, it seemed he was right about the whole thing, but it was different for Marroc. Marroc would not allow himself to be subject to the petty fears of his older brother. He was sure that he left any and all adult hobbits behind the hedges. Unless they were to return to the town themselves, the adults would wait, not bothering to go after them, as they had obviously escaped with the prize they sought after.

Marroc had a more audacious mind when it came to any sort of situation, especially one as captivating as the one they were in. He assumed now, that they were being stalked by some sort of beast, a wolf maybe. If he were to share such a thought with his older sibling, Mosco would have been sure to get up and scurry away promptly after Marroc's revealing of thought, so Marroc kept it too himself.

For Mosco, it seemed to be to be of unending stress and fear. The constant question of what was going to happen raced through his mind more times than he could keep up with. Of all the worst-case-scenarios he could come up with, he neglected this very case in which they were entrapped. Now, Mosco wished that they had been caught. It would have saved him the trouble of all this fear and both of them from the danger encircling them. What was more infuriating, if not more frightening, to Mosco was the fact that he had no idea who or what their stalker was. It wouldn't be much longer before Mosco would most likely break down and cry. He never handled stress or fear well at all throughout his life. This was no exception.

Time dragged on for both of the boys, but while Mosco experienced every second of it, Marroc eagerly awaited the arrival of the next. Neither of them had a clue what to expect, but both waited for something to happen. Something did.

"Are both of you silly Gammidges just going to sit there?" A feminine voice asked amongst a giggle.

Mosco had not expected a voice to sound out of nowhere, so he leapt forward as a response to shock, ultimately finding himself in a pile of leaves in front of him.

Marroc, however, looked up and laughed heartily.

"Why, isn't it Hanna Noakes!" He called happily. "How are you, my dear?" Marroc asked, getting to his feet.

She gave another giggle.

"Much better than your brother, it seems." She said, climbing down from her perch in the tree from where she watched the two hobbits. "What are you two doing out here?"

Marroc looked away playfully, putting his hands behind his back. "No reason." He replied.

Hanna put her hands on her hips.

"You've been out stealing again, haven't you?" She asked, although she knew the answer.

"Oh, I wouldn't call it that." Marroc replied. "I would call it..." He murmured, putting a hand on his chin. "...borrowing. Yeah, borrowing, that's it." He affirmed with a nod.

Hanna smiled but shook her head.

"Well, I'd imagine you had a clean getaway." She assumed.

Marroc looked down at Mosco, who was picking out leaves from his cloak.

"As clean as they come, I suppose." He replied.

"And you know who'll be waiting for your return?" Hanna questioned.

"I would not doubt we're being waited on, but it does not matter if we aren't caught." Marroc said with an air of confidence.

"And what if you are?" Hanna questioned, tilting her head to one side.

"It does not matter." Marroc replied with a smirk.

"It doesn't?" She asked.

"Nope. 'Cause we aren't gonna get caught." Marroc replied with a fervent nod.

"Sure." Hanna laughed. "You say that all the time."

Marroc shrugged. "Hey, I've been right all except twice. I won't go into detail why we were caught." He said.

Mosco immediately glared at his brother before standing.

"I do believe that this could have been thrice." He said with a slight frown.

Marroc looked over at him.

"Dear brother, what are you talking about. It was you who was almost caught, I would have gotten away." He said, as if it was already truth.

"So you mean to say you'd abandon me if it came down to it?" Mosco asked, already getting more upset by his younger brother's attitude. If anything upset Mosco, it was his little brother's audacious nature.

"Certainly not!" He exclaimed. "We're a team, even if our skills aren't evenly weighed." He said, suppressing a chuckle.

Hanna, however, did not fail in delivering Marroc's laugh for him. Mosco expressed his frustration with a deep frown. It was obvious that he was ready to stomp away from the two of them. They often subtly picked on him, despite the fact that he was the oldest hobbit among them.

Hanna's laugh was quite contagious, as it caused Marroc to lose his mature expression and laugh alongside her. Marroc laughing was all that Mosco needed to finally give in. He briskly turned away and walked away rather quickly, all in a fuss. Marroc continued laughing, but Hanna eventually stopped.

"Goodness, although it was funny, it was mean as well." She admitted.

"Nah, don't worry about him. He knows we're only joking with him." He replied, shaking his head.

"I sure hope you're right, Marroc." She replied. "He seemed to take it seriously."

"Trust me." Marroc replied confidently. "I know him, he's my brother."

"Still, what do you think he'd do?" Hanna asked. "Do you think he'd tell someone?"

Marroc was quick to shake his head but he eventually stopped.

"Maybe, actually." He admitted. "He would go to Mr.. Bandobras if he really took it too seriously."

"What do you think he'd do then?" Hanna continued to question.

Marroc put his hands on his hips, in similar fashion to how Hanna did it.

"He'd probably rat me out. He's done it before."

Hanna touched her chin with her finger.

"Well, if not from Mosco, wouldn't Mr.. Bandobras find out sooner or later?" Hanna asked.

"He always does." Marroc replied matter-of-factly.

Hanna frowned slightly at hearing that.

"Then why are you so determined on going through with all your plans if you know what the outcome is going to be?" Hanna asked.

Marroc fell silent, thinking wholeheartedly about her question. Her question posed up a sense of doubt in his mind now. It took him a few moments to come up with an answer, but when he said it, it puzzled him just as much as the question himself. In honesty, he had not put thought into the answer, it just came out.

"I want to prove a point."

Hanna tilted her head at this. It was not an answer that she had expected.

"What point are you trying to prove?" Hanna asked him, although her playful curiousness seemed to be harder to notice.

Marroc sighed, he wasn't sure if he could answer that. He did have an idea that he had adopted after a while which gave a fuel to all his motivation, but upon trying to deliver it, he found he could not. He seemed distant now, sort of trying to avoid it.

Hanna noticed his distress and took his hand. "I understand it's something personal, so don't worry about it Marroc, 'kay?"

Marroc looked at her and gave her a smile, a sincere smile, not one of his playful or bold smiles. It was a kind smile.

"Alright, I won't." He promised. "Thanks."

Hanna giggled, moving a few strands of her long blonde hair out from in front of her face. "Let's head back, shall we?"

"Yes, we shall." Marroc replied with a nodded.

Hanna tightened her grip on his hand and began to move off back toward the town, pulling Marroc along with her. Marroc was gleefully pulled along. He enjoyed being around Hanna very much, it always a playful mood when he was around her.

It didn't take them long to reach the main road which ran through the town. Marroc and Mosco lived near the square, as their mother ran a clothing shop there. It always puzzled Marroc why they didn't live in Tuckborough.

The two of them headed toward the square now, surprised at the lack of notice they were drawing. Marroc assumed it was because there weren't that many out. It was already time for evening tea.

Marroc and Hanna reached the square now. Looking around, Marroc noticed his brother sitting on a bench outside the shop. Marroc immediately escaped Hanna's grip and ran over to Mosco.

"Did you tell him?" Marroc questioned quickly.

Mosco looked at him for a moment before blinking. "Tell whom, brother?" He asked in reply.


End file.
